


In the Drama of the Moment

by Misslethwaite



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Cat Ears, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I'll add to this when I need to, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot Collection, Some AUs, and depending on which one-shots I include, based on collection of prompts, it's a goode-day to be domestic, no really that's chap 4 in 2 words, potion nonsense, some kinda dark, some super fluffy, some super sad, will give warnings in chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misslethwaite/pseuds/Misslethwaite
Summary: A collection of fics based on various prompts. The first being an unconventional proposal (of sorts) - and yes, those precious frog rings we all knew about have a cameo. 1.Ring 2.Shaky Hands 3.Mindless 4.Explosion





	1. Ring (or Say You Will, Say You Will)

_Say You Will, Say You Will_

The plan had gone so right to begin with so where had it gone wrong? Getting everyone else on board had been almost even easier than Misty had anticipated. Once Queenie had found out what she had been up to when she had caught the swamp witch all-too-eagerly trying to stuff something out of sight in a drawer in her room, the whispered word soon spread pretty quickly. Rather than rat her out like she feared some might do, it turned out that most of her magic peers were eager to help in her endeavour, trying to give Cordelia false leads and practised lines and red herrings whenever the Supreme seemed to catch a whiff that something was going on without her knowledge. Knowing young girls could be all manner of curious and conniving, Cordelia often gave the majority of her students the benefit of the doubt that as long as they weren’t doing anything dangerous or destructive then she could trust them. With the Supreme so lately caught up with work demands and all the help Misty had garnered, she thought that things just might go according to plan after all.

“How much longer are you gonna draw this out, Swampy? You getting cold feet or something already? For all our sakes why don’t you just get on with it already.” Madison – who had been a surprisingly amiable accomplice also, though she would vehemently deny that very fact if anyone tried to say so – had caught the swamp witch in passing in the corridor.

“Not yet. Just a couple more days. It’s all going according to plan!” Misty had whispered excitedly back, aware of the headmistress’ shockingly good hearing when it came to her students meddling in anything. Still, admittedly nervous for said plan, Misty had rushed to her most recent hiding spot in order to check…

If all _had_ been going to plan, it wasn’t after that. She searched high and low, with no sign and ever increasing concern. To make matters worse, whilst she was crawling through yet another messy pile of chiffon, cotton and silk she had tossed out of drawers all over the floor in her ever-maddening search, one of the younger students had turned up at her door claiming Cordelia was asking for her. Of course it had to be right then whilst she was in the middle of this…

She asked the student if they knew what the Supreme wanted her for but the young girl just seemed to shrug her shoulders and say that whatever it was she sounded serious. Well that didn’t sound good to Misty’s ears.

So that was how the swamp witch had ended up tentatively standing outside the Supreme’s closed office door, knocking lightly on the wood and waiting for that sweet soft voice to call from inside for her to come in.

“Heard you wanted to see me?” Misty asked tentatively as she slipped into the office as quietly as her bare feet would allow. Cordelia had long since given up on trying to convince her to wear shoes more often, especially during these warmer months. Her mind had more of a tendency to change come winter.

“Yes, Misty, please, have a seat,” the Supreme said, barely glancing up from the plethora of papers over the desk, though never one to shy away from verbal politeness even in casual conversation. It somehow made the tension of the moment even more unsettling for the swamp witch. She felt every bit the foolish child called to the headmistress’ office for a bad deed, literally. Misty did as she was told, sliding into one of the simple chairs positioned opposite. The usual stack of stationery and ‘Supreme things’ as Misty had once so aptly dubbed everything vaguely dull and administration-related once before, covered most of the space of the desktop. Aside from a cleared space on the centre, in which sat a small box. Not wanting to say anything that might incriminate her before any announcements, Misty sat quietly – albeit impatiently – waiting for the cue from Cordelia that they could talk. Just as her own fingers found the hem of her shawl to fiddle with, she heard the distinct click of Cordelia closing the pen cap and propping it on the tabletop just as the swamp witch chose then to look back up at her.

Brown eyes and blue both dropped to the box. It seemed pretty plain and inconspicuous from the outside. A pretty but simple walnut wood, not even much of a distinct pattern to it besides the standard knots and graining under the polish. Except Misty knew that what was inside was not inconspicuous at all. After all, it was precisely what she had spent the last few hours looking for. And presumably, before this, before calling misty in for this inquisition over its contents, Cordelia would have already looked inside to see just what was in it too. The pause between them, before either of them spoke, seemed to go on a second too long for Misty’s comfort. She would have been tempted to break it first, had she known exactly what to say. She could only wait for whatever Cordelia’s reaction would be. After what seemed like an intense eternity for Misty – and for someone who had been dead too many times to count and encountered a couple of kinds of eternity in that time, that was not phrasing it lightly – Cordelia finally spoke.

“So,” the Supreme started softly, “what’s this?” With a flick of her finger, the lid of the box opened. Nestled inside, tucked in the folds of a neckerchief that Misty had painstakingly folded just the right way in there to keep it snug, sat a ring.

“Well, uh, it’s a, uh…”

“No, I know, I can see what it is,” Cordelia shook her head with a slight chuckle but that somehow only managed to ebb away only a little of the tension that had shot into Misty’s shoulders with the unintended discovery. “I meant why do you have it?”

As always, there was never any harshness in Delia’s tone, just soft curiosity, as if longing misty to explain only so she could help.

“It’s one of mine?” Misty tried hopelessly.

“No, it isn’t.” Cordelia did not need any confidence with Second Sight to see right through the lie. Even though Misty’s collection of jewellery was vast, the one in the box looked nothing like the others Delia had seen her wear on any occasion or seen in her collections strewn about their rooms. The ring nestled in front of them, though not overly gaudy or outlandishly big, seemed somewhat finer, perhaps one would say more antique-looking than even Misty’s usual go-to bohemian jewellery and keepsakes. If nothing else, definitely worth more, just judging by the look of it alone, than a half dozen dimes or a dollar or two at the thrift store.

“How do you know?” Misty tried to retort but the untruth, no matter how much she tried to guard it, was more than obvious. Nevertheless, Cordelia conceded to the reply – or lack of one – for the moment. The slight tilt of her head, the small sign of doubt, might have almost been a much more audible sigh had it been anyone else but the Supreme couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated with the fidgeting flighty swamp witch sat opposite her when she looked so nervous.

“Alright, if you won’t tell me that, then next question,” Cordelia tried cordially, resting her folded hands atop the desk. “What is it doing here?”

“Umm…” Misty continued to fiddle with the fringe of her shawl as she tried to think of something more plausible to say without giving everything away. This clearly hadn’t been how she had envisioned this whole circumstance but she wasn’t sure, stuck as they were like this, just how best to salvage it from here.

“You know this isn’t the best place to be leaving things like this around,” Cordelia advised lightly. There was clearly more to it than Misty wanted to let on. “I trust my girls, of course I do, but anyone could have found this, if it means that much to you…”

“I was kinda hoping it would mean something to you” Misty cut across her, no longer thinking, only feeling, as was her way to get through and go about situations she otherwise wasn’t sure how to handle. Clearly holding back from Cordelia wasn’t working for either of them, and postponing things wouldn’t help, so why not come out with it here and now?

“What do you mean?” Cordelia leaned back a little in her chair at that, brow furrowed slightly as she was briefly taken aback by Misty’s blunt interruption. This was going well… As Cordelia had leaned back, Misty leaned forward with a huff, a disbelieving shake of the head.

“Do I really need to ask ya to think about it?”

“You don’t….” Cordelia looked back down to the box. There seemed to be a moment’s hesitation before a light glisten that danced across her eyes seemed to say something had dawned in her expression. She knew then, why that one ring nestled all on its own in the small box didn’t look like all the others she had ever seen Misty wear or leave lying around. Because it wasn’t Misty’s at all…It had meant to be for…

“Still a little blind there sometimes, ain’t ya, Miss Supreme…?”

“M-Misty, I…” Cordelia’s lower lip began to quiver, the deep honey ochre of her eyes developing a glossy sheen, a watery glaze that immediately made Misty’s heart plummet to her stomach like a stone tossed into that deep lake.

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that!” the swamp witch exclaimed about her blind quip, desperately wanting to back-peddle on such a apparently thoughtless comment. For all the times they had joked with one another about it before so lightly, she had just assumed it would be fine. But she couldn’t help fretting over the glisten of tears in Cordelia’s eyes. “I didn’t meant to make you cry! I was makin a joke, I-“ 

“No,” the Supreme shook her head, a stray tear trailing down her cheek despite herself, but “Misty, I…”

“Wait,” much to Misty’s shock, the Supreme’s shoulders weren’t shaking from sobs, but she actually seemed to be…chuckling? “you’re laughing? what’s so funny?” she knew her blind joke hadn’t been all that great after all. Her apparent confusion only seemed to make Cordelia laugh more, a sweet peal escaping her throat at their share ridiculousness.

“Was this really meant to be…?” she asked, gesturing to the box.

“Shit, yeah. It got all kinds of mucked up, but…” Misty raked an anxious hand through her own hair, huffing an exhale, “well, yeah.”

Cordelia continued to chuckle and shake her head in disbelief at the pair of them. Herself for not seeing it sooner, and Misty for hopping around it so much in the first place instead of coming to her before this. Despite the potential hesitant setback before now, with the box already there and the suggestion already out in the open - even if it hadn’t been the grand gesture or sweet sentiment she had planned it to be to get there – Misty seemed to decide that it was, for all intents and purposes, now or never. If she left the room now, she would probably never find the confidence to go through all this embarrassment again. For now, seeing as they were still in the throes of it, she didn’t imagine it could get much more ridiculous.

“Look here, c’mere,” Misty got up from the chair and sidled her way around the desk to reach the side Cordelia sat behind. “Shit, not as much room ‘round here as I thought,” the swamp witch muttered, prompting another laugh from the Supreme as Misty tried to find a comfortable way to kneel down, paused, seemed to have a second thought, stood back up and grabbed the box still on the top of the desk, and crouched back down again. She was glad then that she had gone barefoot after all; having her feet firmly planted on the ground instead of tottering over in heels made it a little easier to balance without bashing herself against the side of the desk. Her long ringed fingers fumbled with the wooden box and neckerchief, trying to pull it all out and grasp the ring without dropping everything. Cordelia, still sat patiently in her desk chair, just looked on amusedly as she watched the lanky swamp witch’s limbs fiddle. Despite how careful she tried to be, in a bout of nervousness, Misty managed to accidentally drop the ring and it made the sweetest light tinkling sound as it hit the hardwood. 

“Here, let me help you,” Cordelia offered and slid down from her chair in order to crouch down, just at the same time as Misty happened to relocate the ring and look back up suddenly triumphant. So close in the short space behind the desk, they collided midway, Misty’s forehead bashing into Cordelia’s chin. After a momentary dumbfounded pause at the mishap, they both broke into laughter, Misty’s free hand resting on Cordelia’s arm to steady herself still while the Supreme rubbed at her jaw. “You know we could have just used magic right?” she asked, chuckling as she steadied herself to balance along with Misty, still grinning at her and ow ridiculous it must be for them to both be crouched here behind her desk like schoolgirls hiding illicit moments from the headmistress.

“Nah,” the swamp witch said with a shrug of her shoulder, shuffling forward to kneel before her again once Cordelia had settled more comfortably. “I wanted to do this the proper way.”

“I think we’re long past that.”

Misty’s hand trailed down her arm to her hand, and with a tenderness befitting the kind of care she showed petals in the greenhouse, carefully slipped one of the two frog rings still adorning Cordelia’s fingers free. The swamp witch chewed her lower lip at the momentary thought of all those precious rings had stood for for the Supreme witch and herself even after all this time. It felt both relieving and weird to take some of that away out of sight if only for the length of time it took to replace it. She slipped the new-old-new ring onto to Cordelia’s finger, though even once she was done, she did not let go of her hand. She wondered which one of them it really was that seemed to be shaking.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me before you do that?” Cordelia asked, drawing Misty’s gaze back from her hand to those glistening eyes again and the grin upon the Supreme’s face.

“I figured if you were gonna say no, you might have said something already,” Misty retorted honestly, which resulted in yet more laughter from the elder witch as she helped to pull Misty back up to her feet behind the desk. “I didn’t say I was done yet though!” the swamp witch exclaimed, clearly startled by their shift in position.

“Doesn’t matter.” Cordelia pressed a swift kiss to Misty’s lips, pulled back to look into her eyes again, seeing the reflection of her own ecstatic gleam in those blue-green colours flashing. “Whatever it is, you can tell me later. Let’s just keep it at yes for now.”

“Yeah?” Misty grinned impossibly wider. “You really mean it?”

“Well you were right. How could you think I’d ever say anything else?” With practically a squeal of joy, Misty wrapped her arms around the shorter witch’s waist to lean them back into the desk chair for a stronger embrace. Their shared balance was not quite so well perceived as last time, and catching herself on Cordelia’s heel, they both nearly toppled over the desk chair rather than into. Luckily with quicker reflexes than when they had hit their heads, having learned from last time, with a swift flick of the wrist Cordelia’s magic managed to shift them aside so they were propped in a lean against the sturdy edge of the desk to stop any fall. With the hands around her waist and without waiting for permission or protest, Misty lifted Cordelia up to sit on top of the desk. Sliding papers aside so they wouldn’t get in the way, a pile fell over the edge scattering all over the floor. She paused, but if she was expecting any kind of reprimand from the Supreme for messing up her orderly papers, she didn’t get one.

“Still a yes, right?” Misty asked, a brow raised as she watched the other witch take her lower lip between her teeth before she broke into another laugh.

“Yes, of course, yes,” Cordelia tossed her arms over Misty’s shoulder’s as the swamp witch settled to stand herself between the Supreme’s legs. She leaned down, leaning the Supreme further back across the desk, planting her one hand atop the hard wood of the desk for balance as the other found Cordelia’s ring finger and the fresh band there, feeling the metal warm as their hands entwined. Her tousled curls tickled at Cordelia’s neck, tumbling over her skin as Misty peppered her jawline where they had previously collided with petty almost faintly apologetic pecks before she nipped at the woman’s pulse point. 

“_Say it again_?”


	2. Shaky Hands (or You Say It Will Be Harder In The Morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a snippet/ ‘pre-scene’ attached to my ‘Don’t Bring Tomorrow’ universe.

_You Say It Will Be Harder In The Morning_

The only relief in all this, was that there had been no knocking on Cordelia’s office door all afternoon. Any other time and she might have found such silence suspect, but her mind was so otherwise occupied that the lack of the usual frequent disturbances could only be conceived as more blessing than curse. The pen in her hand slipped too far across the page, striking fresh ink through what might have been a better attempt than the last, if not for the now-present smudge through the few words she had managed. 

_Damn it. _

She tossed the pen onto the desk in frustration, picked up the paper and crumpled it between her fists, leaning her head against her hands for a moment. The thin paper gave the slightest crinkle as it creased and crimped in her trembling grasp. 

Why couldn’t she do this? Why couldn’t she find the right words? Was she so afraid to say them?

_No…_

_It wasn’t that._

It was the heavy-set stone in her stomach that said the moment she printed those words on the page, it would be the final acknowledgement of the end. Inevitable. Inescapable. Unbearable.

It had seemed like such a sensible idea to begin with. As simple as setting out the lines of one’s will whilst she still had clarity of mind and control of her own body, come what may. (And that was something she had already taken care off, with all the due diligence and distant disassociation such morbid requisites required). 

But doling and deciding and delegating various things about the Academy and legacy for her successors seemed so easy compared to this. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t put her heart and soul into those decisions also, or contemplated every minute detail with the utmost painstaking care. But this… Preserving _this_ on a page, knowing she would never see the outcome, would not be there in the aftermath to reassure or comfort… That was what this was meant to be. A comfort. A reminder. Something to last long after… The end would come and she would accept it as gracefully as one could, as she thought she already had… But there would be others who would not be so ready to accept it.

She lifted her weary head from her hands and tossed the crumpled paper toward the small pile that had already formed in the bin a few feet from her desk. The scrappy ball missed by inches and landed beside the few others that had missed their mark, both in writing and in aim. With no more pressure to keep the papers balled up or curled over, a couple had begun to unravel, revealing blotting and scratchings and struck-through lines of ink on each that went unfinished, unanswered, unspoken. 

<strike>Dear </strike>   
<strike>Please forgive me</strike>   
<strike>My Dear</strike> <strike>   
</strike><strike>If you’re reading this… </strike>

  
<strike>My Dearest Misty</strike>

Elbows still resting on the hardwood of the desk, Cordelia looked for a moment at her hands, how pale they were, how thin they had become, how the low afternoon sunlight danced on the smooth still-new gloss of the ring on her finger that seemed so loose now. When had her hands started shaking so badly? A sharp intake of breath. An unsteady sigh. She closed her eyes against every black imprint of ink upon pale pages. 

With a weary wave of her hand she burnt the crumpled papers that lay in the small bin, leaving only an ashen silt of the words she had tried so hard to say.


	3. Mindless (or Think About It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more domestic pointless fluff that probably belonged in a fic at some point somewhere.

_Think About It_

“Delia?”

The sweet Cajun tone shook the Supreme from her reverie. Those deep dark eyes gave a slow blink, like a cat, Misty thought, caught in the soft shaft of sunlight filtering through the tall window.

“Hm? Sorry?” Cordelia’s voice was barely more than a gentle whisper, distant, lost in a haze of quiet contemplation.

“Is everything okay?” The swamp witch almost wished she had also been blessed with the gift of mind-reading, if only to know what occupied that crowded mind so much of the time. She could read the small signs and signals in a touch or a look, well-versed in reading Cordelia’s subtleties by now, but sometimes, some days, she seemed a little too far from the shore for Misty to follow. Depths she still swam down to on the off occasion, that even the swamp witch still could not fathom. “You just seem a little spaced out there...”

“It’s fine...” came another quiet sigh, accompanied by the gentlest clink of a long polished nail against the rim of the Supreme’s half-empty coffee cup. Fine was a word they mutually agreed to disbelieve whenever one of them tried to use it to avoid conversation, but Cordelia seemed to have forgotten that in the moment, which only furrowed Misty’s brow further.

“What’re you thinking about?” Misty asked, as she set her own half-emptied mug aside and leaned further forward in her chair. She never could sit straight, always tangling her long limbs as if she was never quite sure where to put them or whether she should still be ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. The years of instinctual swamp living never quite left her, even now after all this time. It always made Cordelia seem so patient and still by comparison, sitting so poised as the Supreme often did.

“What makes you think I’m thinking about something?” Cordelia asked, finally drawing her eyes away from the window, a quirk of a miniscule smile twitching at the corners of her lip.

“I just figured that was why you’re so quiet lately,” Misty replied with barely a pause, a casual shrug of her shoulder, “I know ya. Always got something on your mind or worrying about something else. Or someone else. Not that that’s always a bad thing, but, ya sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah...” The quiet response didn’t sound half as convincing as Misty would have liked it to have been.

“You’d talk to me if you weren’t?” She wanted to push further, but past experience had told her that although Cordelia would be unlikely to push back, that didn’t mean she would open up. If anything, it would push her closer back in to herself, drawing up old walls.

“Of course.” A Supreme in complete calm control almost always on the outside, all the inevitable turmoil too often got trapped within. Until someone like Misty, oftentimes only Misty, could help it all come tumbling out safely in the private confines of their own shared quarters.

A hum, a pause, the furrow of a concerned brow; “Seriously, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes, Misty, you know that,” Cordelia said with a small, sweet scoff, finally turning that deep coffee-coloured gaze back toward her endearing yet insistent wife; “where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Well you spend so much time worrying about us,” Misty replied matter-of-factly, her oceanic gaze never leaving the other witch for a moment, “someone’s gotta worry about you too, right?”

“_Don’t_ worry.” The light chuckle from the Supreme witch’s lips as she emphasised and insisted the retort made the phrase almost compelling. “My mind was just wandering elsewhere for a little bit, that’s all.”

Still unwilling to take dismissal for an answer, Misty released a huff of breath as she leaned back in her chair again, wrapped her hands around the knee currently curled up on the seat, still fidgeting even as her expression perked up. “Anywhere nice?”

“You’re really not going to stop, are you?”

“And you’re not really gonna give me a straight answer are you?” Misty cut just as quick, as she watched Cordelia pick up her mug again, lift it to those pristine lips. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with concern, she would have been so tempted to lean forward once more to kiss them.

“I was just daydreaming,” Cordelia insisted, taking another sip. “Nothing else to it.” The snort that she got in response made her pause.

“Since when do you ever daydream?” the swamp witch shot back with a dubious look crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

“Ha ha. I’m serious,” glancing over the rim of her mug, Cordelia shot Misty a small smirk despite herself.

“I am too.”

To her credit, it was actually difficult to tell for once whether Misty was joking or not. Her fidgeting fingers were still tapping away along the top of the table. Anyone else might have found such a habit annoying or irritating but Cordelia seemed to merely find the anxious acoustics endearing. She rolled her eyes though and shook her head, motioning to the cup almost rattling in front of Misty with the ferocity of her tapping.

“Just drink your tea.”

“You really not gonna tell me?” Misty’s head cocked to the side, like a cautious puppy with those big eyes, the edge of her lips perpetually twitching, unsure whether to turn to smile or dip into seriousness.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Cordelia insisted, setting her own mug back down on the table.

“You promise?”

“Mm-hmm,” the Supreme nodded as she folded her hands back together over the table top, leaning on her forearms as she watched the swamp witch dubiously. She lifted a fine brow, the gentle slope of a small smirk lifting the edge of her lip also, “and just for the record I do daydream.”

The retort from the taller blonde was instantaneous. “Could have fooled me,” Misty scoffed, pausing her tapping of the table wood for a second to spare the Supreme an obviously disbelieving glance. “You barely sleep long enough to have a normal dream.”

“Yes well, some of us have a lot to take care of.” Despite her words, Cordelia couldn’t help chuckling at the pronounced pout on Misty’s face.

“And some of us need to learn to relax a little more so she can sleep at night instead of at the kitchen taaable.” It made her look years younger, that childish expression, the singsong tone as she playfully swiped at her hands.

“Alright, alright, I get your point.”

“Do you though?” In a gesture of feigned surrender, Cordelia lifted her hands from the table, out of Misty’s swiping reach.

“Shush.” Misty’s intended target lifted out of the way, her hand had accidentally knocked into the mug in front of Cordelia instead, toppling it toward the edge of the table. With a flick of the wrist In record time though and a delicate touch of telekinesis, the mug was righted before any harm could be done to clothes, ceramic or the hardwood floor. 

“Sorry-,” Misty winced for but a second – grateful for the magic that had caught the mug so quickly, avoiding the inevitable mess - nevertheless she continued her tirade barely a breath later, “But if I find you working later at stupid o clock again instead of coming to bed...”

“You won’t,” the Supreme shook her head dismissively as she daintily picked up both mugs from the table. She eyed Misty’s, double checking it was empty before taking them back to the sink.

“Is that a truth or a dare?” the swamp witch’s voice and vision followed her, even whilst Misty remained at the table, an undoubtably teasing tone.

“I promise, alright?” Cordelia called back, accompanied by the clink of cleaning the cups. “No more dozing off at the table.”

Suddenly there were long arms wrapping around her midriff, the familiar scents of flowers and rain-washed earth drifting past her senses as a chin touched her shoulder.

“We’ll see...” came Misty’s dubious purr at her ear, squeezing an arm at Cordelia’s waist, eliciting a quiet chuckle. She set the mugs aside with a nod, and spun herself around in Misty’s embrace until they were facing one another. She pressed her lips to hers, to quiet any more protest, kissing lightly. Just as Misty expected it to go deeper, her arms tightening around Cordelia’s frame, itching to lift her higher, the Supreme pulled back, breaking the kiss midbreath with a smug smile.

“Yes. We will.” Misty paused, then pouted as the tip of Cordelia’s finger lightly tapped the tip of Misty’s nose, undoubtedly teasing as she wriggled her way free from the taller witch’s grasp “Later.”

She had to withhold a semi-disappointed whine as Cordelia slipped away, back towards whatever other commitments she had to make of the day that Misty had conveniently managed to draw her away from. One of these days she would be able to figure out how to help filter all the stresses that whirled around that wonderful brain of hers so the Supreme could worry a little less and they could relish free time a little more. They had yet to work out whether glowing radiant health worked for resisting worry lines, but either way that much constant worry couldn’t be a good thing for anyone. Top witch-bitch or not. 

“Mmhmm…” Misty pondered as she pushed the chairs back under the table, made her way tapping along the counters and walls, humming distractedly, towards the garden to check on her other immediate cares. “She still didn’t tell me what she was thinking about...” If words were no good to glean from, perhaps a massage later would persuade her wife to be a little more talkative under her touch...


	4. Explosion (or I Got The Cat-house Blues)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This should have been up sooner. But life.  
No plot or angst or pain in this one. Just more pointless fun nonsense. Partially inspired by some fanart I saw ages ago. Enjoy.

_I Got the Cat-House Blues_

“And what have I told you girls, countless times might I add, about messing with ingredients and spell books without consulting me first?” The sudden sound of the stern voice sent the two young students in the greenhouse shooting up from where they stood hovering over the old workbench. “This is dangerous; it’s not something you should be playing with until you know what you’re doing,” Cordelia added, casting a glance at the open flame precariously close to a braid of brunette hair.

“But Miss Goode, we know what we’re doing!” This feeble protest earned a rather dubious look toward the two girls from the doubtful Supreme. Granted not many students voluntarily chose to take up learning the magic of the greenhouse inventory besides herself; many students complained it seemed too advanced and she was sure many more just found the necessity of the spell books and incantations outdated and boring to pore over. Still, whilst she was glad these two had apparently taken an extracurricular interest, it did not mean she was so happy or lenient with them about sneaking into the greenhouse without informing her first.

“But we didn’t sneak in!” the little redhead had piped up defensively; had she been wearing a pair of cats eye glasses with that plaid skirt, her precociousness might have reminded Cordelia of her own old mentor. “Miss Day let us in!”

“Is that so?” It sounded like the Supreme would be having some stern words with the other botany teacher sooner or later about the ramifications of letting students run rampant apparently without appropriate supervision. “I see… And where is Miss Day now? Or are you going to tell me she also thought it was a good idea to let you play potions on your own?” Cordelia asked, folding her arms as she looked at the two until the brunette caved under her gaze.

“No, she’s round here somewhere we swear. She just said she was gonna go fetch some other herbs that needed tending to or something,” she said while the redhead still dropped whatever it was in her hand into the pot before Delia could even whip it out of her hand with telekinesis.

“Very convincing...”

“It’s true miss Goode! Honest!”

“Well I can see it’s already too late to stop what you’ve already done,” the herbalist headmistress said with a sigh, “but at least let me look at what you’re doing,” Cordelia relented, walking to the table. Just in time it seemed too, as the taller girl leaned over to sprinkle something in and Cordelia had only seconds to see what it was.

“Don’t!-“ She pushed the girls aside, far from the boiling mixture, knocking the stray hand away from the pot but with her concern for her students paramount, she wasn’t quite quick enough to stop a scattering from falling in. Keeping the others at bay a safe distance with an outstretched hand, she turned back to the mixture, leaning toward it to inspect it… A small cloudburst erupted with an albeit rather underwhelming ‘poof!’ from the small pot; a candy-blue coloured puff of smoke, concealing the headmistress’ features in a fine mist as she had bent over the mixture.

-

Misty, having gathered a handful of coloured herbs, was currently carrying them back into the greenhouse with a spare jar to sort them into that she had pinched from a kitchen cupboard. She wandered, humming happily, into the greenhouse over the small stoop of the doorway. And nearly dropped the plethora of pilfered things in her hands.

The two young students who she had left for no longer than five minutes were stood frozen to the spot, while Cordelia was leaning against the opposite workspace. Although the Supreme’s back was turned, Misty could tell even at this distance, the way she was bent over, holding her hands over her face, either side of her head. Immediately, the swamp witch feared the worst. That something had happened again. Maybe something had gone wrong, judging by the looks on the girls’ faces. Fearing for Delia’s eyesight – again - or for shock or pain or whatever else the supreme might be silently going through, Misty hurriedly set her things down on the table, not caring for anything that scattered or fell in her haste. Picking up the small can of water, just in case, and the freshest jar of mud recently collected by herself, Misty couldn’t help the worry that stirred deep in her stomach; she had not heard a single word uttered from the stooped Supreme. She had to restrain herself from running or flat out leaping a la parkour over the table to get to the quivering headmistress.

“Delia? Dee? Talk to me, y’alright?” Misty asked tentatively, longing to place a hand on the shorter witch’s back but unable to with both hands full. Up close she could see Cordelia’s shoulders shaking. The tips of her long blonde hair damp and dripping with whatever liquid the potion had been. There was a small moan, and Misty might have shuddered if she hadn’t been so close, if she didn’t know Delia so well to know that was not a moan of pain. Anguish, maybe but not agony like she had been so afraid of.

“Delia, what happened? What’s wrong?” She asked again, this time setting the water down - nothing seemed to be burning, which was good, but it had to have been traumatic either way given her past and Misty wasn’t exactly anxious to remind her of that. Another small groan was elicited from the witch. “Let me see what happened…”

“No…” It was the first word Misty had heard clearly from her, but not exactly the one she had been wanting.

“Dee, please, I need to know if you’re hurting, I want to help,” Misty shot a look to the two girls still stood in the corner, mouthing what did you do? After some shakes of the head and shrugs of the shoulders, Misty shooed them back into the main house, ushering one of them to get Zoe or Queenie or anyone else that Cordelia might not mind seeing her like this. “Delia come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh it’s bad alright...” Whilst Cordelia’s words worried her, the fact that she was speaking with those words and that slightly sarcastic tone was oddly comforting.

“Okay you’re scaring me now. C’mon darlin, let me help you,” this time the swamp witch did raise a hand to her back, hoping a reassuring touch might coax her into complying in confidence. The touch seemed to pay off, because after a moment, Cordelia seemed to lift her head a fraction before hesitating with a mutter.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why the hell would I laugh, it’s not li- oh....” Misty’s words trailed off as Cordelia lifted her head from her hands and turned slowly to face her. No acidic burns or deadly rash or anything evidently painful or scarring to speak of... But there, right there - and Misty had to blink and double take before she could convince herself she wasn’t seeing things - peeking out from the damp blonde strands of hair, for lack of a better description appeared to be a very distinct actual pair of pointed fluffy cats ears.

“Nooooo. No way…” Misty’s gasp, her voice, even filled with such child-like awe, did not do any favours for Cordelia’s feelings about this feline development. “They’re not...Noooo....Can’t be...” Misty reached out to touch one and Cordelia flinched back.

“This is ridiculous...I can’t go anywhere like this!” Cordelia moaned again, evidently exasperated. Misty took the moment of distraction to reach out again and managed to touch one this time just briefly before Cordelia had slapped her hand away. Sure enough, the velvet fuzz felt very real. Warm and soft.

“What the hell were they thinking?” the Supreme exclaimed. “What were they even trying to do?!” Cordelia gripped at her new-found ears as if she could pull them from her head like some Halloween accessory that way - with no success.

“Ho! Cordy! I knew you had a hard time in the closet, but I didn’t know you were so far in you found yourself with the furs! Jesus!” Madison’s unmistakeable tone chimed through the greenhouse. Of course, of all the people the students could have found first in this situation... Madison’s laughter befitting a characteristic cackle in the quiet space, evidently did not help Cordelia’s mood or predicament at all.

“Madison! This isn’t funny! This is a disaster!” Cordelia tried desperately to reprimand the other young witch, but the heeled blonde only seemed to find it more funny not less.

“They actually twitch when you’re angry?” Madison only cackled harder as she lifted her phone to catch the light. “This is actually priceless. If you could only see yourself right now-“

“Madison please! Don’t you dare record this!!” the Supreme’s ears perked up, forcibly restraining a shriek as she tried to swipe the phone from the movie star’s grasp. Unfortunately every time she dropped her hands to flick at the phone with telekinesis, that only gave Madison a better chance and angle to record the ridiculous ears. Now apparently not just satisfied with pictures for Instagram, Madison had found the necessity of recording the ridiculous ways the ears reacted so finely to Cordelia’s expressions. An animation or phone-app filter couldn’t have done it better.

“Oh lighten up Puss Puss, this is the most fun you’ve been for months, and it’s far too good to pass up!” Madison taunted back, the tell-tale shutter sound of the camera clicking away again as she sniggered. “See even swampy finds it funny!”

Uh oh. Cordelia spun back to face Misty, and indeed the ears seemed to be twitching a little, as did the swamp witch’s lips as she tried far too hard – and failed just as much – to keep a straight face at the sight. “Misty! You’re supposed to be on my side here. Come on this isn’t funny!” Cordelia whined, the ears bending back with it.

“Maybe not funny,” Misty carefully agreed, literally biting down on a snort. “But ya have to admit it is kinda cute...”

“Cute?!” That only made Madison laugh harder, and Cordelia had flushed a strong pink so fiercely Misty could have sworn she even saw a hint of it in the tips of those ears. “Those girls are in so much trouble!”

“Maybe you should worry more about these right now than them...” Misty tried to calm her, swiping a hand at the ears, intending to stroke the plastered hair from her face but actually only embarrassing the supreme witch.

“Hey Misty, maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you can check whether she’s got a tail too!” Madison hooted, getting a handful of flower petals, leaf cuttings and vine tossed telekinetically towards her as Cordelia hollered back.

“Madison!!”

“Ooooooooohkay!” As Cordelia nearly reached for the mud, Misty leapt to intervene before the two cats could really claw at one another. Madison made her escape, likely to wash the greenery from her hair and upload all her wonderful recordings for the witches of the interwebs. Misty turned back to Cordelia, grasping one hand, and brushing at her tousled hair with the other, attempting to pat it smooth around – without touching – the adorable ears.

“Hey, don’t listen to her.” The Supreme seemed to have already spent any anger she had and resorted back to her previous anguish, that had Misty shaking her head. ”Look, it’s fine- I mean, it’ll be fine. We’ll just work out what the girls were trying to do, and how to reverse it and then nobody will have to know or see anything and it’ll all be good, huh?”

“I can only hope it will be that easy,” Cordelia grumbled in reply, absently tugging on one ear again. Neither of them wanted to admit to the likelihood that Madison had already prevented the latter part of that argument.

“Course it will. You’re the supreme. It’ll be easy as pie.” Misty reassured, swiping at the other one and this time Cordelia did not flinch, though she did give Misty yet another dubious look, a fluffy ear twitching in alignment with the raising of a fine brow. The swamp witch hummed, smirked, then stuck her tongue out cheekily between her teeth as she dared add; “You know you do look pretty adorable like this though..”

“Please don’t,” Cordelia groaned, rolling her eyes as she turned back towards the table.

“What? It’s true,” Misty insisted, hovering at her side, an infectious grin upon her face; “You’re kinda cute as a kitty cat.”

“Please don’t ever say that again,” the Supreme shook her head, although despite herself she couldn’t help the small smile in her own expression hearing it from those lips. Perhaps the Cajun could be forgiven.

“Hey, Dee?”

“Yes, Misty?”

“_Do _you have a tail?”

Perhaps not.


End file.
